


TimeStamp: When Sam Gets Sick

by lovingsmutandfluff



Series: Changed [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caretaker Dean, M/M, Medical Kink, Non-con to Dub-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sick Sam Winchester, Sickfic, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovingsmutandfluff/pseuds/lovingsmutandfluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Time Stamp for the Changed Series. Sam gets sick and Dean is bent on taking care of Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TimeStamp: When Sam Gets Sick

**Author's Note:**

> So I said that I was done with the series and I lied, even to myself.  
> Bit of a change of pace for the Changed series. There isn't any sex or anything, but a bit of non-con just with Sam not wanting Dean to help. That however changes by the end of the story.

It was about three weeks later since Sam had the binding tattoo put on him.

Three weeks since Sam was permanently bound to Dean.

Dean chose to forget about the runaway attempt Sam made, and Sam counted it as an attempt, seeming how he had just ended up being under Dean's watch once more. Only now, Dean was watching Sam's every move.

 

At the moment, Dean was watching a Western on TV, Sam casually reading a book Dean had picked up for him at the local bookstore. Dean's hand was rubbing Sam's leg softly, and Sam was ignoring it as well as he could, distracting himself with the book.

Sam wasn't feeling completely 100 percent either, but there was no way in hell that he was going to tell Dean that.

He wasn't sure how the spell binding them together would alert Dean, and Sam prayed that this was just some internal gas needing to be released or something.

Dean turned to Sam and frowned, hand leaving Sam's leg to rub against his own tattoo, and Sam felt panic shoot through him as he looked at Dean.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, Sam, putting the book down.

“Yeah?” He asked, heart now racing.

“You OK?” Dean asked, eyes narrowing slightly, like he was trying to figure out something. He was. Sam was sick, and didn't want to let Dean know.

Dread filled Sam quickly, and he prayed this would be gone after they went to bed.

“I'm fine, Dean.” Sam shrugged.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, eyeing Sam up and down, and Sam's heart quickened even more.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded.

“Hmmm....” Dean murmured softly. He turned back to his movie, hand moving back down to Sam's leg, and Sam continued to read his book, now _really_ praying that nothing would come out of this tomorrow.

When they were younger, Dean loved to help Sam when he was sick, letting John worry about the monster while Dean took care of Sam. Sam thought back to those memories and realized that if he was sick now, it would probably be ten times worse than how it was when they were younger.

 

After the movie ended, Sam bookmarked his page, and set the book on his end table, turning off the light.

“I think I'm gonna sleep now.” He said to Dean, curling up under the sheets.

Dean nodded, and turned off his own light, shutting the TV off and he got in under the sheets with Sam, pulling the younger Winchester close, and spooning him and feeling his warm back.

“Night Sammy.” Dean whispered, kissing the back of Sam's neck, and Sam realized that Dean was probably trying to feel if he was warm..

“Good night Dean.” Sam replied, forcing his heart to slow down.

Sam fell asleep and Dean wasn't that far behind him.

 

When Sam woke up, he felt like shit and he groaned softly, knowing that he was indeed sick.

“Fuck.” Sam muttered under his breath.

He felt the shuffling behind him, and Sam stilled, realizing that Dean was still asleep.

Sam rolled on his back and stared up at the ceiling, breathing softly, praying that this was just a dream and that when he woke up he would be perfectly healthy, but Sam had no such luck.

That was when Dean grunted and woke up.

“S'mmy?” Dean asked, blinking as he groaned, making himself wake up. He rubbed the tattoo again, and groaned, before he focused on Sam, suddenly alert and worried. “Sammy?”

Sam turned to Dean, and Dean shifted, lifting a hand and feeling Sam's forehead.

“You're warm.” Dean said, both hands feeling Sam's neck. “You're sick.” He accused.

“I'm fine.” Sam said weakly.

“Sam, you can't lie to me about this. I can fucking _feel_ that you're sick.” Dean said.

He got off the bed and started to walk out of the room.

“Where....where are you going?” Sam asked.

“Seeing if there are medical supplies anywhere in here.”

“Dean, I'll be OK. I just need to rest up and I'll be fine.” Sam felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach as he watched Dean walk off.

“You're my baby brother Sam, and the love of my life, I'm gonna make sure you get better.” Dean said, voice serious.

Sam whimpered softly and he curled up under the sheets.

 

When Dean came back, he didn't have anything except for a thermometer.

“There is literally nothing in this house for medical supplies, except for this. Which still helps so I can figure out how bad your fever is.”

“Dean, just let me rest. I'll be over whatever I have before we both know it.”

“No can do, Sammy.” Dean said, going on the bed to sit beside Sam, and he turned on the thermometer. “Open your mouth Sam.”

Sam clamped his mouth shut and Dean sighed.

“You never did like the idea of me taking care of you when you were getting sick.” Dean sighed, manhandling the sheet off of Sam to sit the younger of the two up.

Dean then tried to get Sam to opened his mouth, but Sam fought against Dean until he was able to throw the thermometer across the room.

“God! Sam! What are you, five?” Dean said, going up to got the thermometer.

“I'll be fine Dean. Just let me sleep.” Sam said, rolling over and grabbing the sheets to curl under them. He became a tight ball under the sheets, unmoving and unwavering.

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Fine. Be that way. I'm going out to get some medical supplies to stock up on.”

Dean grabbed the thermometer before shutting the door behind him. Sam sighed softly, trying to fall asleep again.

 

Dean drove out into town and grumbled softly at Sam fighting against him to try to take his temp.

Dean knew that eventually Sam would just give in and let Dean take care of him, and Dean couldn't wait for the moment, knowing that the sooner Sam gave in, the better.

He turned on one of his tapes and started singing along to some AC/DC as he drove off to the store to get some stuff for Sam.

 

Sam did manage to find some sleep. But it was only small amounts.

Sam groaned as he felt his stomach flip flop and he was afraid that he was going to get sick for a second.

And Sam really didn't want Dean to find that out.

Slowly, Sam got up, making his way to the bathroom to pee, and he groaned again when he felt another wave of nausea.

If Sam really got sick, then he would have to leave it to Dean to completely take care of him, because he wouldn't be able to take care of himself with as weak as he would be.

“No...I can do this.” Sam grunted softly, relieving himself, and heading back to the bed.

When the third wave of nausea hit, Sam went back to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet bowl so he could puke his brains out.

 

Dean grunted, pressing against the tattoo as it radiated warmth against his shoulder knew that something else was the matter with Sam as he looked around for medical supplies.

He prayed silently that Sam would be OK until he came back, and Dean hurried up and tried to finish his shopping up so he could be back home with Sam.

 

By the time that Sam got back in the bed, he was freezing cold and all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.

He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.

It seemed that right as he fell asleep, Dean was back and standing over him, a worried look etched on his face.

“Sammy? Hey, you with me?” Dean asked.

“Go away....wanna sleep.” Sam groaned. He looked at the clock and realized that while he did manage to find some sleep, it hadn't been much.

“I promise I'll let you sleep after I look you over.” Dean said.

“No. Fuck you.” Sam grunted, rolling to his side, and away from Dean.

“Sam, stop this. You're sick and you need to get better.”

Sam whined when Dean reached over to roll Sam back over, and the sick Winchester tried to pull away again.

“Alright then. So this is how we're doing this.” Dean said.

Sam felt Dean move away and he was wondering what Dean was doing, when he heard the chest of dreaded items open and shut and a crinkle in the bag of supplies Dean got. Suddenly Dean was back, and on top of Sam, grabbing Sam's wrists to tie Sam up.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, trying to pull away from Dean, only to be stopped by a wave of nausea.

“Sam this is why you shouldn't be trying to fight. All I want to do is help you but I can't if you won't let me.”

“I don't want your help.” Sam whimpered. “I want to sleep.”

“And you will soon, Sammy. Just let me do this. And if you stop fighting, I'll untie you. Promise.” Dean said.

Sam's wrists were bound together, and Sam's ankles soon followed.

Sam threw a bitchface, and Dean only shrugged.

“You were the one that fought.” Dean said.

“Can we just get this fucking thing done with?” Sam grumbled, no longer in the mood to be pleasant.

“Will you be a good patient?”

Sam turned his head away and Dean sighed, lifting the pen light that he grabbed from the bag.

“Look at me, Sam.” Dean ordered, and Sam begrudgingly turned to face Dean.

“Attaboy.” Dean said, clicking the pen light on and shining it in Sam's eyes. He moved on to the nose, ears, and mouth, and Dean hummed in approval, finally getting off of Sam.

Sam watched Dean grab the big bag of medical supplies and place it on the side table, and Sam whined.

“Dean, can I please just sleep? I want to sleep.”

“Sammy, I promise that you will. Just let me figure out exactly what's wrong right now.”

Sam whined again, but nodded, and Dean smiled, kneeling down by Sam.

“Will you be good for me?”

“Yes.” Sam murmured, looking down at the floor. “I'll be good.”

“Look me in the eye and say it.”

Sam lifted his eyes, and took a breath. “I'll be good.”

“Attaboy, Sammy.” Dean smiled, and he reached to untie the rope, before he stilled and looked up at Sam. “You make any move that you're going to fight, sick or not, I'm tying you back up and that is how you're staying for the rest of my exam, got it Sam?”

Sam grunted, and Dean shrugged, starting to pull away from the rope.

“I got it! I'll behave!” Sam said, wanting the rope untied. Dean was wearing him out, and Sam was pretty sure that Dean was planning on doing that just so Sam would be pliant to work with.

It was fucking working.

“See? We can do this like civil people, Sammy.”

“There's nothing civil about this.” Sam muttered, and Dean shot him a look.

Sam turned away, eyes shut and Dean gave a soft smile, untying Sam, and watching him remain lax on the bed.

“I'll make you better Sammy. Promise.” Dean whispered softly, kissing Sam's warm forehead. His smile grew when Sam leaned into the kiss.

Dean walked off and Sam's eyes opened, watching Dean go to the big bag of items, and he realized how just how willing he was to do whatever Dean wanted just to find sleep.

If that meant being a good boy for Dean, then fine. He'd lie down and behave.

Sam chose to ignore the fact that that was what Dean wanted.

Dean pulled out a thermometer, still in the package, and Sam's face grew confused.

“Dean, we already have a thermometer. Why'd you get a new one?” Sam asked, feeling a cough rise in his chest.

Sam coughed, hacking up mucus and phlegm and Dean grabbed a tissue so Sam could spit it out.

“There we go. Get that gunk out of your throat.” Dean said, soothingly, firm hand rubbing Sam's back.

Sam was trying to deny how good the back rub felt but he couldn't. He wasn't able to suppress the soft hum he made from it and Dean looked ready to do a backflip from the response Sam gave.

Once Dean threw the tissue away he ripped open the packaging to get the thermometer.

“Dean...” Sam started up again until he saw Dean toss the package away.

In big letters, right on the front of the package, were the words ' _Rectal Thermometer_ ', and Sam balked.

“Dean, what about the other thermometer?” Sam asked. “What's wrong with that one?”

“Sam, you fucking threw that across the room, it cracked. I had to buy a new one.”

It was a fucking lie, and Dean knew it, but he wanted to see Sam on his stomach having to take a rectal thermometer. Besides, it would help Sam just give in _that_ much more and let Dean take care of Sam.

Sam whined, really not wanting to do this, but he really didn't want to be tied up, so Sam flushed red and turned on his stomach, letting Dean lower away his boxers and spreading an ass cheek.

 

Dean couldn't help cherish the fact that Sam was being so pliant for him. He wished that Sam was like this all the time, but that would just take patience and practice.

Dean was about to stick the thermometer in, before he paused. “Almost forgot the lube.” Dean said, going back and squirting a small drop on the tip of the thermometer. Sam flushed further, and buried his head in his arms, and Dean smiled at the humiliation radiating through Sam's body.

Dean moved back to Sam, and slowly inserted the thermometer, turning it on and watching it carefully, massaging Sam's ass as he did so.

“Being a good patient Sammy. Really proud of you.” Dean said, watching Sam's temperature rising.

The thermometer beeped and Dean sighed, pulling it away.

“Baby has a fever of 99.9.” Dean said, rubbing Sam's back again, and Sam pushed into the touch, not even caring about the pleased smile he knew Dean was making.

“Dean, please rub my back?” Sam asked. “Please?”

“Sure thing, Sammy, baby.” Dean said, sitting down by Sam and slowly massaging Sam's back.

Sam sighed, eyes fluttering shut and Dean hummed softly.  
“Don't fall asleep yet Sammy. Gotta get through the rest of the exam.” Dean said, hands finally stilling on Sam's back.

Sam groaned, and Dean laughed, helping Sam roll back over, and helping him sit up.

 

“My patient is being good.” Dean murmured, kissing Sam's forehead again. “Very proud of you.”

Dean looked at Sam's face, seeing how flushed it was, partly from embarrassment, and partly from the fever. “Gonna heal you all up.” Dean whispered.

Dean placed the thermometer on the table and went back to the bag, grabbing a stethoscope and placing the bits in his ears, walking back over to Sam, and pressing the cool metal to Sam's chest.

Sam shivered, but his body heat warmed the metal quickly.

“Sammy, take a deep breath for me.” Dean said, listening to the _thumpthump_ of Sam's heart.

Sam did as Dean instructed and Dean focused on Sam's chest, moving the metal around slowly, listening to Sam's heart and lungs.

Sam coughed again, and Dean nodded, knowing that Sam had more mucus and phlegm, and he left, grabbing the tissues and letting Sam hack and cough it out, Dean praising Sam softly as he did so.

Then Dean listened to the back of Sam's chest before placing the stethoscope around his neck.

“Doing good, Sammy. Doing good.” Dean said.

Dean's hands rose and started rubbing against Sam's neck, and they felt as good as Dean's hands on his back had felt.

“What are you doin'?” Sam murmured, loving the soft gentle feeling of Dean's hands.

“Feeling the nodes in your neck, Sammy. Makin' sure nothing is swollen or painful.”

“OK.” Sam sighed as Dean felt around Sam's body, feeling the lymph nodes.

Dean's hands didn't linger too long on any body part, but Dean did have a smug look on his face and Sam knew it was because that he stopped fighting and started to let Dean take care of him.

 

Dean pushed down on Sam's stomach, lightly, and Sam groaned, nausea passing through Sam.

“Sammy?” Dean asked.

“Threw up earlier. Don't press on my stomach.” Sam groaned.

Dean nodded, and quickly moved along with Sam's internal organs, making sure that there were good.

“I bet that's what I felt when I was in the store, it was you puking your lungs out.” Dean said.

“Yeah, probably.” Sam grunted.

Dean's hands trailed lower, but didn't touch, but Sam no longer cared. The moment that Dean would let him, Sam was gonna fall asleep. He was tired and all he wanted to do was rest.

Dean hummed some classic rock song, and Sam remembered the road trips where John and Dean would sing at the top of their lungs....

“Sammy? Hey, hey, Sammy, what's wrong, baby? Something hurt?”

Sam hadn't realized that he started crying.

“N-no....nothing hurts....only aches. I was....I just remembered our lives before....singing in the Impala and stuff. I miss that, Dean.” Sam whimpered. “I don't feel good.”

“I know baby. I know. I'm here to help you though.” Dean murmured gently. Dean's hand went up to Sam's arm and Sam grabbed it without thinking, holding it.

“Right here Sammy.” Dean whispered, kissing Sam's hand.

Sam nodded, and he felt nausea pass through him again.

“Dean...toilet. Now.” Sam groaned, and Dean grabbed Sam, hurrying over to the bathroom, so Sam could throw up.

When Dean got Sam back to the bed, he took Sam's temperature again.

“Sammy, I'm gonna get some medicine in you.” Dean said softly.

“But what if I throw it up?” Sam asked, already falling asleep.

“Don't worry about that baby.” Dean said, walking over to the bag, and pulling out a box of gloves, opening it up and snapping two on.

He pulled out the small bullet shaped suppositories, and walked over to Sam.

“Gotta put a few of these up your butt Sam.” Dean said.

Sam grumbled, but didn't do anything, except lie on the bed.

Dean popped two out and grabbed the lube, slicking Sam's hole up and sliding one in.

When the suppository didn't come out, Dean got the other inside, and Sam grunted.

Dean snapped off the gloves and tucked Sam in bed, not bothering to put clothing back on him.

“Sleep Sammy. If you're feeling better when you wake, I'm going to make you something to eat. If not...I'll figure out something.”

Sam sighed, and almost immediately fell asleep, much to Dean's amusement.

He kissed Sam's forehead, and stood up, and sighed, thinking about what he was going to do if Sam couldn't stomach food, but needed fluids. There was no way in hell Dean was taking his Sammy to a hospital.

He'd figure out something.

 

So Dean had end up sneaking into a hospital and stealing some IV bags, that were filled with the solution needed to keep Sammy hydrated.

If someone got fired from him taking what he needed to keep Sam OK, then oh well. That no longer was his problem. Dean also managed to get to the store again to get a bucket for Sam to throw up in so he didn't keep having to move back and forth.

Dean drove back as quick as he could, hoping that Sam wasn't going to wake up during the time that Dean was gone.

 

Sam's eyes opened blearily, and he looked at the time.

He'd been out for about 3 and a half hours. He still felt like shit, but it wasn't as bad this time.

Though his stomach was still churning.

“D-Dean?” Sam called out. There was no response, and Sam whined. “Dean?” He called again.

Still nothing.

Sam got up, coughing and hacking, and he grabbed a tissue, coughing out mucus, before throwing it away.

Slowly Sam got up and shuffled over to the bathroom, needing to pee badly. He swayed and moved around the floor before catching himself on the wall, whimpering.

Suddenly, Dean walked into the room, and stared at Sam.

“Goddamnit, Sammy, what are you doing?” Dean asked, placing his stuff down and grabbing a hold of Sam.

“I need to pee.” Sam whined. Dean nodded, and lead Sam to the bathroom, holding him as Sam used the toilet and Dean helped Sam back into bed.

“How's the stomach?” Dean asked.

“Better, but not by much.” Sam grunted, eyes shutting again.

“Do you think you can stomach any food? I need to get some fluids in you.”

The thought of eating made Sam's stomach roll, and Sam made a face, groaning.

“No. No, no, no.”

“OK. I was afraid of that. Sammy, you're not gonna like this, but I need to hook you up to an IV, if you keep barfing and loosing fluids.

“Nooo...Dean....” Sam whined, flopping his arms in an apparent form of self defense.

“Well, if you can't stomach food then, I need to set you up to one so you don't get dehydrated.”

“I can eat food.” Sam grunted.

“Sammy....”

“Gimme food.”

Dean sighed, knowing what was going to happen if he did.

Dean was about to grab the IV when Sam groaned, and Dean got the bucket for Sam.

Sam threw up in it before coughing and hacking into the bucket as well.

“And this is why you need the fluids.” Dean muttered, helping Sam lie back down. “I know you don't like IVs. But I need to do this, Sam.”

Dean got up and grabbed one of the IVs, and placed it on the table, before grabbing the tall lamp from the corner of the room, bringing it over and hooking the IV over it.

Dean put on another pair of gloves and got some alcohol swabs, ripping a package open and grabbing Sam's forearm.

Sam trembled in Dean's hold, probably Sam trying to fight Dean, and Dean rolled his eyes, wiping at Sam's arm near the vein.

“Dean...noooo...please....don't want IV.”

“I know, Sammy, but it'll help you get better.” Dean said soothingly.

He grabbed the tourniquet and tied it around Sam's arm, watching the vein pop out and Dean grabbed the IV needle, uncapping it and sticking the needle in Sam's arm.

Dean looked back up at Sam's face, seeing tears fall from Sam's eyes, and Dean wiped them away.

“I know, baby. I know. You feel like shit. I promise that this will make you better.”

Sam whined, nodding, and Dean took the gloves off, grabbing Sam's book.

“How about I read some of this book to you? Kinda like old times?”

Sam nodded, hand reaching out to touch Dean's leg, and Dean smiled, thinking back on when Sam was a kid.

 

“ _De'...De'...” Sammy whimpered, grabbing for his brother. “De' read me a story, please. Want a story. Don't feel good.”_

“ _Of course Sammy.” Dean said, grabbing one of Sam's kid books. He sat down by Sammy, and pulled Sammy up, so that Sammy was cradled against Dean's body._

_Dean wrapped Sammy up and opened Sammy's book, starting to read softly._

_He felt Sammy's hand reach out, grabbing a hold of his pants, as he listened to Dean's voice._

_Before Dean knew it, Sammy fell asleep._

 

Dean smiled and started to read, watching Sam slowly loose consciousness again, and before he was half-way through the chapter, Sam fell back asleep.

 

When Sam woke up again, it was nightfall. He felt a lot better, but he ached like crazy and his stomach did soft turns. Though if he was careful, he thought that he'd might be able to eat.

“Sam?” Dean asked, turning to see Sam shuffling on his side of the bed.

“Dean?” Sam grunted softly.

He turned and looked at Dean, seeing Dean watching him, eyeing Sam up and down. While Sam had slept, Dean had given Sam more suppositories, and had kept a careful watch as to not overhydrate Sam.

“Heya Sammy. Sleep well?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded, and looked down at his arm.

“I have an IV?”

“You were throwing up too much.” Dean said. “Loosing fluid, and your stomach wasn't ready to take anything, so IVs it was.”

Sam knew that this was wrong, that he shouldn't be OK with Dean taking care of him like this, but Sam no longer cared. All he wanted was to feel better.

“I've been out most of the day?”

“Yep.” Dean nodded, happy that Sam wasn't trying to do anything to fight him. “Think you can take something? Maybe some simple broth?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded, sitting up slightly.

“Great. I'm gonna get something for the cough you've been having too. Help break up the stuff in your lungs.” Dean said.

“OK.” Sam nodded.

He watched Dean leave, and Sam was tempted to take the IV needle out of his arm, but he knew that Dean wouldn't be happy about that.

_Since when do you care about what Dean wants?_

Sam froze, realizing that he was starting to care about what Dean wants. He wanted to blame the sickness, but Sam was pretty sure that he only had a 24 hour bug and that wasn't the reason.

The reason was that he was getting used to Dean's treatment. Even more, he was _enjoying_ Dean's treatment.

Dean walked back in about ten minutes later with a steaming bowl of soup. He carefully removed the needle from Sam's arm, and covered the area with a band-aid.

Sam reached for the soup, and Dean shook his head.

“You're still weak. Lemme feed you the soup, Sam.” Dean said.

“I can do it myself.” Sam said.

“Just just focus on recovering.” Dean said.

“OK.” Sam nodded, opening his mouth for the liquid in the spoon.

Sam slowly gulped it down, noting that it wasn't too hot, but not too cold.

It was perfect.

 

“ _Sammy. I made you some food. You hungry?” Dean asked, looking at the miserable Sammy, curled up on the bed._

“ _Yeah, Dean...want some food.”_

“ _Alrighty.” Dean said, walking over with soup and a drink, and he got Sammy to sit up._

“ _Can I feed you Sammy? You're probably not feeling really great. What happens if you drop the spoon on yourself?”_

_Sammy looked at the bowl that he was reaching for before he dropped his hands in his lap._

“ _You're right De'....might burn myself.”_

“ _Which is why I'll give you spoonful by spoonful.” Dean said, slowly feeding Sammy the soup._

 

Sam consumed the soup slowly, making sure not to upset his stomach, and Dean gave him a proud smile. Then Sam took some medicine for the cough, which he ironically coughed soon after taking the medicine.

Dean retucked Sam in and cuddled in beside him.

Usually Sam was completely against Dean's cuddles, not wanting to be anywhere close to Dean, but usually being forced to.

This time, Sam curled up against Dean, and Dean smiled.

Sam knew that he couldn't blame the sickness for making him feel this way, and Sam couldn't deny it anymore.

He was growing used to Dean. And he was starting to crave Dean more and more.

Sam decided to stop denying it, and he decided to stop fighting it.

This was what Dean wanted all along, for Sam to actually respond and love him back.

Dean was going to get his wish.

It was just a matter of time.


End file.
